


Tradition

by Eggling



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (1963)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 13:40:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13147866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eggling/pseuds/Eggling
Summary: In which the food machine is the bane of Jamie's life.





	Tradition

**Author's Note:**

> for [keatulie](keatulie.tumblr.com).

“An’ ye just...” Jamie gestured towards the battery of switches, levers, and buttons before him. “Press one of those, and food appears?”

“That’s the idea.” Polly tapped one of the buttons. “The Doctor won’t explain how it works. I’m not sure he understands it himself.”

“Oh.” If the Doctor did not understand it, Jamie thought, there was no point in him making any effort. “But it has tae come from _somewhere_.” A light had flickered on inside the compartment, and he leant forwards eagerly, peering through the clear plastic door. A shape was forming, first of light but then of solid matter. He fought the temptation to open the door and reach for it until the glow faded. “See, how’d it grow?”

“What were you expecting?” Ben asked, grinning. “A tiny tree?”

Jamie scowled at him, snatching the apple out of the food machine. “It can give ye an apple whenever ye like?” He stared at it in wonder. “Can it do other fruit, too?”

Polly laughed at him, and he pulled a face at her. “It can make anything you want.”

“ _Anythin_ ’?” Jamie repeated. He dragged his gaze away from the apple with some difficulty to tap buttons at random, peering eagerly into the compartment. Another swirl of golden light filled the space, leaving behind a shapeless, jelly-like blue mass. A twig was stuck haphazardly into it, as if someone had tried and failed to recreate a fruit. Perhaps it was alien, Jamie thought. Perhaps he had just pressed the wrong buttons.

“That happens sometimes,” Ben said, shrugging. “You just have to try again. Hell to clean, though.”

Jamie opened the door. Some of the jelly oozed out, and he poked his finger into it experimentally. When he came to no harm, he raised his finger to his mouth. “Mm. ‘S good.”

Ben and Polly pulled faces of disgust. “Alright, mate,” Ben said. “You can have it, then.”

Jamie rifled through a nearby cupboard, letting out a satisfied murmur when he found a plate tucked amongst the various pots and cutlery. He scooped the odd fruit out of the compartment as best as he could, grimacing at the sticky blue trails it had left behind. “Do ye think the Doctor will mind?” Polly shook her head. “Do ye remember what I pressed?” He poked a few buttons. The machine whirred, clunked, and quietened, its lights fading away. “Och, _no_.”

“It does that sometimes, too,” Ben said. “You’ve just got to wait a bit.”

“So I can’t get this stuff again?” Jamie scooped a dribble of jelly that was making a bid for the floor back onto the plate. “It’s gone forever?” Maybe he could plant the stem somewhere, he thought. If such a poor imitation of a fruit could even grow.

“Looks like it.” Polly patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Life on board the TARDIS is a bit like that.”

* * *

“I’ll never know how ye do that,” Jamie muttered.

Victoria laughed, tossing her head to keep her hair out of her face. “Jealous?” she teased.

“’Course not.” Jamie leant forwards in his chair, propping his elbows up on the back of it. He looked pointedly towards the oven under the pretence of checking the timer. “Why would I need the food machine? I can cook.” The food machine was good for some things, he admitted to himself. Single ingredients were fine, and it could manage some simple things. But it was incapable of getting more complicated meals right, and the less said about its porridge the better. Except, it seemed, when Victoria handled it. How she had managed to glean such mastery from his meagre skills, he would never know.

“Well, I can’t,” Victoria retorted. “Anyway, it reminds me of having servants at home.”

“Ye still have to do the washing up, though,” Jamie said. “It cannae do everything for ye.”

“I don’t mind,” Victoria said. “It’s the feeling of it, more than anything.” The food machine whirred, and Victoria beamed, removing a perfect slice of cake, its white icing glistening almost proudly. It rested on an ornate porcelain plate, and Jamie gaped at it. Seeing his expression, Victoria turned back to the food machine. “Would you like a slice? Or...” She studied the buttons. “I could have it make you a muffin instead?”

Jamie shook his head. “I’ve got my oatcakes in the oven, I dinnae need your muffin.” Victoria shrugged, rifling through a cupboard to find a fork. “How did ye get it tae make the plate? It doesnae even give me glasses for drinks.”

Victoria grinned at him. “A magician never reveals her secrets,” she said. “There’s a row of buttons up the top with a picture of a plate next to them.”

Jamie huffed. “Just because you can work it perfectly -” The food machine let out a high-pitched whistle, and the light inside the compartment flickered back on, startling Victoria. A new object swirled into existence, and Jamie let out a triumphant cry. “There! See, you’ve got a wee bit more than ye asked for. I knew ye couldnae work it right all the time.”

“It’s...” Victoria reached in to pick up the new food, then tossed it to Jamie, fighting a smile. “It’s not for me, I think it’s for you.” Jamie caught it, beaming when he realised it was a chilli pepper, and Victoria burst into laughter. “Maybe it’s trying to make up for all the times it’s wronged you.”

“That thing doesnae feel any regret,” Jamie told her. “It’s merciless. I know the Doctor says machines cannae really feel, or think, but -” He cast a dark look towards the food machine. “That one does.” He bit into the pepper, still keeping an eye on the food machine, as if he feared it might spring into life at any moment.

“Here.” Victoria pressed a few more buttons, then handed Jamie another plate, this one laden with a muffin. “Peace offering.”

Jamie glanced at the oven. “The oatcakes willnae be done for a while.” The muffin was tempting, he thought. And Victoria’s eager smile was hard to resist. “It’s no’ a funny flavour, is it?”

Victoria pulled away a chunk, turned it over, then bit into it. “Just blueberry,” she said. “Come on, Jamie, you know you want to.”

“Aye, alright.” Victoria sat down beside his chair. “I’ll let ye in on a wee secret, then, shall I?”

“What secret?”

Jamie grinned at her. “I dinnae really hate the food machine.”

* * *

Jamie cast a despairing glance over at Zoe’s plate. His own was loaded with food, but as always hers held only a few bland-looking cubes. “Zoe, that cannae be enough food for ye.”

“Don’t be silly, Jamie,” Zoe said sharply. “This is just like what I used to eat on the Wheel. Each of these blocks is specifically formulated for optimum nutrient intake. Technically, I’ve got more to eat than you do. How many times do I have to explain it to you?”

Jamie frowned down at her plate. “Aye, but how does it taste?”

“That hardly matters.”

“’Course it does. Are ye _enjoying_ it?”

Zoe blinked at him. She looked as if the idea of enjoying a meal had never occurred to her. The thought of it filled Jamie with horror. Of all the things Zoe’s old life had kept from her, surely this was one of the worst. “Do I need to?”

“Jamie’s right, you know,” the Doctor put in, making Jamie jump. He had thought the Doctor was too absorbed in his book to pay any attention to their conversation. “I, ah, understand your concern with nutritional value, Zoe, but – well, I’m not sure the people of your time had managed to invent nutrient blocks that are capable of entirely replacing organic food. And besides, it’s the little things, isn’t it, Jamie?” He winked at Jamie.

“Aye.” A smile spread slowly across Jamie’s face as he understood the Doctor’s meaning. “Aye, it is.” He got up from the table, crossing to the food machine. “You’re going tae have some real food for once, Zoe.”

“Real food?” Zoe looked around in alarm. “Jamie, I’m sure that’s not -” She stared at him. “I didn’t know you could work the food machine.”

Jamie scoffed. “’Course I can. It’s traditional.”

“The food machine’s not _traditional_ ,” Zoe argued. She glanced at the Doctor, making sure he was absorbed in his book again. “Antiquated, yes, but not traditional. If I didn’t know better, I might even think it dated back to your century.”

“It’s traditional here,” Jamie said. “If you’re with the Doctor, ye get taught about the food machine. Ben and Polly taught me, and I taught Victoria. I cannae teach ye how to work it, but I can teach ye about proper food.” Zoe still looked dubious. “You’ll like it. Promise. Let me show _you_ something for once.” He turned to the Doctor. “Do ye want tae help?”

“Oh, no.” The Doctor sat back in his chair, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “No, I’ll leave it to you. As you said, it’s traditional.”


End file.
